The Impossible Echo
by Manic Mint
Summary: A rather innocent progression of events turns into something a lot more deadly including but not limited to: Weevils, Sabotage, Politics, Rift Bending, and two universes trying to exist in the same space. Fun times! 10/Rose. Torchwood crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Yadda, yadda, I don't know Doctor Who, in any of its incarnations. I'm not even British. Not to mention Russel T. Davies is the man. Onwards!

Chapter 1:

_Parallel Earth/Royal Hope Hospital, London._

It had been a fairly normal day in the Hospital. Well, as normal as things could be these days. They were a world struggling with alien politics, and more than anything, the hospitals felt it the worst. Their whole institution was constantly being flipped upside down the minute some alien came in begging for help, and they were required to at least try. Never the less, it usually stirred the rest of the patients up whenever they showed, even when they were well mannered and quiet about their entrances.

Needless to say, when a triad of purple humanoid blurs careened down the hallway, people were just a tad ruffled. The lead, a woman, accidentally tripped over a cart as she went, slipping along the linoleum with feet covered in what could only be described as goop. She called out a barely understandable sorry, echoed by the two male figures directly following her.

The woman turned sideways, sliding to a stop surprisingly well, leaving purple gloopy streaks in her wake as she slide up to the Nurse's desk, bumping into it lightly. The two behind her weren't as lucky. They stopped less gracefully, one tripped over a chair and found himself flat on his back.

"Hel-lo!" She woman sing songed and showed bright teeth.

The nurses were momentarily speechless.

"Excuse me," a nearby woman said pompously, sticking out her chest so that you could better see the tag labeling her head nurse or something equally pretencious, "I'm not sure what planet you came from, but here on earth we require a certain level of," the woman looked the three of them up and down with contempt, "cleanliness in order to see the patients."

The woman bit her lip and clasped her hands together in a plea, "I know, I know, and I'm truly sorry, it's just I got a little excited. If I could just see them through a window or something--"

"--Not possible." The nurse broke in.

The purple woman set her jaw subtly, taking the nurse in for what she was, hands shifting down to fist on her hips in a stance that spoke of bad, bad things.

"Pardon me," she began solidly, though still cordially, "but why not?"

"For your kin-- for you, it just wouldn't be possible."

Just as she had suspected, the Nurse's mere stance told volumes. This wasn't the first she'd run into, not by a long shot. People prejudiced against aliens. She couldn't blame them, in the large. Most everyone there had a negative experience, namely with Cybermen. It jaded people.

Still, it'd been almost five years! Earth had made great strides since then and, call her a crazy optimist, but it should have sunk in by now, with all the races that passed through, that not all non humans were evil, psychotic, hellbent creatures. For this woman to not only obviously detest non-humans, but to also be fatally unobservant about it...

The woman slowly strode closer to the desk, crossing her arms on the tabletop and pursing her lips, eyebrows crooked in a dangerous way.

"Nurse," She got a better look at the tag, "Fischer, I would like you to take a look at this," She smiled and pointed a thin finger at the badge sewn into her sleeve, "I usually don't like to flaunt this, but this is a symbol, as I'm sure you are aware, of Torchwood.

"I," She gestured to herself as if she were speaking to a five year old, "Am a member of Torchwood. These," another gesture, "are my colleages. We," a gesture, "do not appreciate prejudice of any kind. Now, I have spent the day swimming, and do take that literally, in the bodily secretions of a stranded, and mind you, peaceful, slime being. This has caused the current unfortunate circumstance of me being slimy and _purple_ and it's not going away for 48 hours, but I assure you that I am 100 percent human, and that, if I were, in any way dangerous, I would be miles away right now.

"Now," She smiled again, "Nurse Fischer. It seems we have got off on the wrong foot. My name is Rose, and I am going to assume that you are a responsible and courteous representative of this hospital and will look under the list of patients for Tyler, please?"

Rose Tyler smiled cheerfully, displaying her teeth, all the whiter for the contrast. The nurses at the station and some passing people in labcoats all had stopped to watch the goings on with varying degrees of awe. Nurse Fischer did, as her name implied, a fantastic impression of a fish as well. It had been a long day for Rose and she couldn't help but gloat just a little at the woman's response. These days Torchwood was highly known and respected. Looking down on them was about the equivalent of saying Hitler was a rather nice bloke, so the woman had pretty well stepped in it now.

However it made Rose oblivious to the person who had just stepped up next to her until a white coated arm dropped right in front of her vision before fluidly plucking out a chart from behind the desk. Rose followed the line of the arm up to a young and undeniably pretty staff member. The woman was trying valiantly to remain professional and not smile at the situation and failing a little.

She ran a finger down the list and stopped after a second, "Well, Rose. Let's see, Tyler, Jackie? Is that who you're looking for?"

Rose flashed a happy smile, "Oh, fantastic, yes, and thank you so much,--" She looked down at the woman's name tag and almost laughed at herself for the twinge she received. There on her paper name tag in all caps, bold type, "Hello, I am The Doctor."

A slight punch in the shoulder from a recovered Mickey snapped her back to the situation.

"Uh, huh? Sorry…" She smile sheepishly.

The doctor didn't seem put off, "I said that there's no need to worry, it was a false labor. It looks like the baby will arrive right on schedule next month."

"Aw," Rose sighed happily, "oh, that's great, thank you so much…uh…Doctor–" The blonde motioned helplessly at her nametag.

"Oh, right, that. Yeah, I just started, they haven't gotten me my ID yet." The woman laughed lightly, "The name is Jones. Doctor Martha Jones."

--

Rose rested her head on the window, tucking her fists happily under her chin as she looked at the rows of infants on the other side of the glass. Doctor Jones stood back a respectable distance but close enough to deflect any worried anti-purplist grandparents. It wasn't her corner of the hospital, far from it actually, but it was her break and she didn't mind terribly. She was actually greatly enjoying Rose's company in the hour they'd had to chat.

They'd started talking about the hospital at first, particularly the silly policy that kept Rose from seeing Jackie, even though all she really had was a rather pronounced case of indigestion. The conversation about silly policies crossed over into Rose telling Martha bit about Torchwood's even sillier ones. Just little rituals one has to do before speaking to or meeting a certain alien. Some pointless, some for diplomatic reasons. Rose's particular favorite had been the time she'd had to hum the Benny Hill tune and then balance her shoes on her head the entire time she was talking to an Barcian diplomat.

Martha usually wasn't the quiet one of the group, but she found herself amazed somewhat. Not many people heard these stories, and she wasn't about to give up the chance. Their conversations had continued all the way through the walk to the Maternity Ward, which Martha had offered to show her around for the day when Jackie wasn't just being panicky. Apparently, the big bad Torchwood operative had a soft spot for babies, because the minute they stepped into the room, the blonde practically glued herself to the window.

"They're so tiny," Rose breathed, smudging the glass with her breath.

Martha took a step closer, smile across her face, "Do you have any?" She asked innocently. Rose blanched and backpedaled with little grace.

"Oh-- no, no." She laughed.

"Me either." Martha returned cheerfully but sighed, "I know what you mean though, and rest assured, kids these days withstand a lot more than they used to."

Rose could only tilt her head in complete agreement, "More resilient every generation. Everyone is always worried we do so badly when few realize how far we've come."

"Wow," Martha said half in humor, breaking the thick mood, "Deep."

"I know, right?" Rose grinned, "I'm more brilliant than I look." Rose finished, blatantly ignoring basic English grammar.

It'd been a while since Martha had really had a good laugh with someone. Let alone a near complete stranger. The last decade had put a stress on humanity as a whole as they struggled to gather themselves back up and adapt to the new alien presence on the world. Most people had run into one, some for the better, some for the worse. As for Martha, she was cautiously curious. Sure she'd had as many bad experiences as others, but she wasn't dumb enough to think that there were benefits to alien involvement and interaction.

She also had to admit she'd always had a sort of fascination about Torchwood. The organization that had bled out from between the ruble and took it upon themselves to regrow things back to the way they were. Martha had wondered what kind of people would be a part of it. She'd seen them from a distance and had drawn her own conclusions about them, and, frankly, Rose did not fit that mold in any way. She wasn't stoic or alien, she didn't carry a weapon, and honestly, looked far too young to be involved in the first place.

By the time Martha caught herself staring, Rose had noticed as well.

"Sorry!" Martha waved a hand, "It's just…well, you're not what I would have expected from Torchwood. Those other two, yeah." She let her sentence fade for a minute, "and now you think I'm an idiot."

"Don't worry about it. I get that a lot, and have for a long time. I'm older than I look, promise." Rose smiled.

Martha found herself with more questions on the tip of her tongue, and had almost convinced herself to ask them when, she was well and thoroughly interrupted by screams.

Martha and Rose spun toward the noise, both wound up tight. It only took a second for them to let out a sigh of relief as the maker of the sound revealed himself, clinging for dear life on Mickey's back. Mickey was a horribly aggressive piggy back ride giver, and the small boy loved it.

Rose's mouth twitched to the side as she leveled a look at Mickey who was avoiding her look by holding the child's arms and spinning him around in a shallow circle. The boy whooped a yell before collapsing into giggles. Of course, Rose wasn't having that, she propped a fist on her hip and waited until they spun _just _close enough…and hooked her arms under the boy's and gently lifted him away from the man.

"Come, now. We've made enough of a scene today, I think," Rose chastized, though she was smiling.

The boy wiggled around in Rose's grip and pointed at her, brown eyes wide, "You guys," he said gravely, "are _purple_."

Rose snorted and bopped the boy lightly on the head with a loose fist.

"…and you stink." He continued matter of factly, Rose instantly dropped him, dramatically but gently.

"That's what you get!" She said, crossing her arms before disolving into a smile and dropping a hand on the boy's head, "I made a friend today, want to meet her?"

He looked at her curiously, "Is she an alien?"

"Nope," Rose took him by the shoulders and turned him to look at Martha, "Jace, this is Doctor Martha Jones. Martha, meet Jace Tyler."

Martha's face dropped into a look of understanding, and she leaned down slightly to look the boy in the eyes. He couldn't be more than four, dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and a wicked wide grin to go with it.

"'Ello Jace," She said, "want to see where you brother or sister is going to be in a month?"

The boy nodded enthusistically and wiggled out of Rose's grip so that Martha could point out how things worked. Rose stepped back a bit, still close enough that she could keep an eye on Jace and far enough away that she could think to herself, pressing her lips together tightly and crossing her arms around her ribs.

This earth had made leaps and bounds, sure, but the people in this world…well, Rose had never seen people so suspicious in her life. It had been the decision when she'd first ended up here. After all the disasters the world had suffered and her father's sudden ascension to a seat of power… it just wouldn't look right if a daughter cropped up as well. Jackie was risky enough, they managed to explain that away after some effort, but there wasn't much one could do for Rose.

To the public eye, she was part of the Tyler's senior officers of Torchwood and that was all she could be. Ironically, she found herself nameless, answering questions with a, "Just Rose." It was kind of…lonely, and yet again she found herself thinking of a particular Doctor.

Five years and his constant presence in her thoughts hadn't lessened at all. They weren't so sad anymore. Sometimes something would strike her and knock her momentarily breathless, but you just have to push it away and keep on living, day after day.

Mickey was giving her _that _look again, and she smiled to reassure him before looking back at her little brother where he had just asked Martha where babies came from. The doctor assured him that, _that _was a question for his parents. Rose laughed at the imagery going with _that _future scenario. Jackie was a bit blunt sometimes…

Then, without warning, the world… Cracked.

Rose took in a sharp but silent gasp. She had a bare second to contemplate how you didn't truly recognize the pieces of your environment until they weren't there. The strong smell of antiseptic abruptly ceased, the soft hum of the air conditioners silenced, even the prickle of air on her skin was gone. She could barely even feel the floor under her feet. Her senses were just _gone_.

As weird as that was, it was nothing compared to what happened to the world around her. It was as if someone had doubled everything and skewed them just by a hair. No, it wasn't just doubled…and not just moved, it was changed. She stared at the walls breathlessly, noticing the copies of the posters on the wall weren't the same, the signs read different things. Fear struck her as she looked over at Mickey, who, unlike everyone else, had no afterimage.

Then she saw Martha.

The Martha she'd met was still kneeling on the floor, crisp white jacket standing out as she gesture in slow motions to Jace. Semi-transparent, one leg weirdly running through her other self's back, was another Martha, hair pulled back, arms loose at her side, and a wide eyed expression on her face. Rose couldn't tell what she was looking at, but she almost looked…scared.

'_We will have it…' _Said a voice from nowhere.

The blonde's face hardened, "Who's there?" she was surprised to hear her own voice, though it was warped.

'_Have what is ours…'_

Rose almost panicked, the doubled word was now smuding, slipping farther and farther apart into distinct forms. Her brother, and Mickey all thinned and distended. The reality of the situation grounded her, and she dipped into a reserve of strength that rarely failed her… and now, She. Was. Mad. No one messed with her friends. In a voice that spoke of ultimate authority, she spoke.

"Stop it." The world pulsed, "_Stop. It. __**Now." **_

In a flash of gold, the world snapped back as if a rubber band had let go, wobbling almost comically before it settled. The force of her senses returning was almost a physical blow, and as soon as it was done…she sunk to her knees right in the middle of the maternity ward.

All she could do was stare in shock.

–––––-

_Earth/Unit HQ, London._

Martha bodily flung herself out of her chair, arm flinging folders and pencils off the table to the floor. After a moment of shock, she propped herself up on her elbows, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what she'd just seen. The lab around her spun uncontrollably for a second before settling. She waited for her mind to fully return before speaking to no one in particular.

"What, in the hell, was _that?"_

A/N: Alrighty, I wanted to preface this by saying that this is something of an amusement for me and, as my amusements go, I'm kind of cringing and waiting for it to wheel around and kick me square in the face. I have the plot outlined and I know exactly where I'm going but the devil is always in the details and my muses sometimes decide not to help me. So! I make no promises as to the speediness of this getting out, though I will try.

So, that said, I will be cherry picking things from ye olden Doctor Who times and a few of the audio adventure things but I'll try to maintain cohesion to the best of my abilities, though there is a fairly great chance that I'll miss something.In particular, I'm going to be rummaging around Gallifrey's timeline quite a bit and messing around with the fabric of space itself… y'know, nothing big. So, in advance, pardon any inconsistencies.

As to where everything actually falls: We're in Doctor Who between seasons 3 and 4 but after the christmas special. As far as season 4 goes, well, I'm liking it so far but I won't be able to include it since things would probably implode a couple episodes in, so consider it AU after the third. As to Torchwood, we're hitting that right after "A Day in the Death of." Yay for Dead!Owen.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The TARDIS

The Doctor let out a satisfied sigh just as the TARDIS' last traveling echoes died out, signalling a successful, if naturally bumpy landing. He didn't want to admit it, but he had been worried there for a while, if only slightly. The Tardis was on her last legs. A lot had happened to her in a very short amount of time on top of the fact that she'd been running out of power even before that. She deserved a break and a tune-up, he had decided, and now was a better time than ever.

He patted the console with a flash of a smile, "Be back in a jiff!"

These days the ship just seemed dead without a little bit of speech and he'd never really seen a problem with it, he was knew the TARDIS was listening. She just had a particular problem about responding, it was the biggest downfall of not having a mouth. Not that she would really be communicative right now anyway. She was probably as depressed as he was right then.

He shook the idea off as he proceeded down the ramp, he'd have plenty of time to sort that all out in the next week when he set to fixing her up. Right then, he was just happy that they'd made it to their destination, a space station going by the simple name of T-72 that had a wonderful array of parts he could retrofit for the TARDIS. It'd been his favorite mechanical hunting ground since the last remodel.

Of course when he pulled open the door with his usual amount of gusto he shot a wide eyed look at the surroundings and then promptly shut them again, hands gripping the handles as if it wouldn't lock on its own. He twisted to look over his shoulder at the main console almost accusatorially, before slowly opening the door again just enough for a peek.

"What?" He hissed under his breath and pulled the door shut securely. The TARDIS had overridden his commands before, usually just a bit this way or that in a logical manner. It was less the ships fault as it was more just the fabric of space/time itself. Its stability wasn't what it used to be and sometimes, though you were aiming in one direction you found yourself elsewhere simply for a lack of a stable pathway. Of course, there were also the times when the TARDIS deliberately pretended to misunderstand and head off wherever she pleased. He suspected this specific instance had something to do with the latter, though she had never gone out of his way this much and if he didn't know better he'd think it'd been out of spite.

"Really, now. Cardiff?"He asked the TARDIS with a slight pout.

The ship just hummed a slightly woozy but very resolute response. Sometimes the ship could be just a little bit cheeky and there wasn't much he could do about it. However, she rarely did these things without a reason, especially Cardiff. He'd stay long enough to take a quick look and if he happened to run into a certain resident team, well, he'd just have to see exactly how Torchwood was run these days.

–––––

Parallel Earth/Torchwood HQ, London

Rose woke up to the familiar sight of her pencil cup and the embarrassing realization that she was drooling. The blonde jumped up, pulling off a report that had stuck to her face in her sleep, before looking around to see if anyone had noticed, she did have her vanity. Luckily, the base was still quiet, the light barely coming in through the blinds. A quick check of her watch and she almost considered sinking back onto the desk and drooling some more. Four o'clock? How dare such an hour be in existence.

She buried her hands in her hair, combing it back into a manageable shape and hastily pinned it up with a nearby pen as she surveyed the mess of papers she'd left on her desk last night. She shifted the folder and viewed the rows of pictures of her brain, frowning a little as everything washed around in her head a little. She'd receive the week off for that little half fainting act in the hospital. It wasn't what she was aiming for, and wasn't entirely warranted, but that was the downside of your father essentially being your boss.

He'd said she worked too much anyway, she knew he was just fishing for a reason to order her to take time off. So when the news inevitably rounded back to him, he'd used it for all it was worth. She didn't really argue, partially because he had enough on his hands, partially because she did want to get this… thing, sorted out, and more importantly, sorted out on her own. She'd fought hard to prove herself in Torchwood, and the last thing she needed was for them to think she was mad. Plus if her Mother found out, she'd have a rather major freakout.

It was easy enough to run a few tests without raising too much of a fuss. She found a trainee to do the tests for her. They were all perfectly trained to operate the machines, asked few questions, and had a minor version of hero worship for her, so they'd pretty much do as she asked.

She needed to rule any internal explanation out before she could look for external ones. She'd been in the business far too long not to. Even then, if it wasn't some kind of bump on the head or wonky nerve thing, there was a chance it could provide some sort of clue.

Trick was, while the trainees could print the reports off, but they couldn't tell her what they meant, which left her in her current predicament. The blonde looked at her reports, and then at the phone, biting her lip lightly before picking it up. She didn't have much of a choice.

Rose needed a doctor.

––––

Earth/Cardiff

"How close is it?" Ianto gasped, speech hiccupping slightly with every solid footfall.

"Uh," Owen responded eloquently, trying to get the screen to make some sense, "Left, I think."

Ianto shot an uncharacteristically panicked look back at him, "You think?"

"Just do it, already!" The two exchanged annoyed looks before they simultaneously and skidded to a stop only a few feet in, neither of them able to see past a foot ahead of them. Owen could almost hear Ianto's frustrated breathing as he fumbled for a flashlight, Owen chose simply to shine the locator's lighted screen ahead of him. They both fell into a very uneasy silence as they eyed the aged but undeniably sturdy brick wall ahead of them.

"So," Ianto started but Owen put up a hand to silence him.

"One word about a 'Dead End' and I will chuck you back out there, tea boy."

That was about when the sounds of the growls reached them.

Owen's face tightened, "Not. A. Word."

Torchwood 3 was having something of a tough week, well, more like five days, to be precise. For the week before that, it was actually uncharacteristically peaceful, then, all of a sudden, the world went completely nutters. The rift was, for lack of a more scientific word, having seizures. Every few hours the energy emanating from it would increase to amazing heights, stutter along for a bit, then just inexplicably drop back out.

Of course, where the rift went, the monsters followed, and they'd been up to their ears in a rash of disturbances since then. It got so bad that most of them hadn't really slept since it started, not that it effected Owen, he found out. The dead don't necessarily need to sleep. It did leave them minus 3 people, though. Toshiko and Gwen had been awake for over 36 hours so that everyone else could grab some sleep. They had to practically force the two girls back into the Hub for them to sleep. As for Jack, well, within two days he knew they wouldn't be able to keep this up and had grudgingly made a phone call to UNIT.

The relationship between the two organizations was dealable but, as with most beuaracratic traditions, any cooperation between them required a mess of red tape and that beast managed to transform itself into a formal trip to UNIT on Jack's part, leaving him out of commission for the day.

That left Owen and Ianto to deal with well, that.

In the spare second that it took them to wheel around to leave, the light coming in through the opening of the alley was blotted out by several growling humanoid forms.

"How many?" Ianto asked calmly, hand winding around his gun.

Owen turned the screen back to himself and frowned, "Still only registering one of them. You're guess is as good as mine."

His mind raced for a moment, trying to think of a whys and hows. They'd been chasing it thinking that it was only one weevil, as the computers told them. They'd found it, sure enough, huddled in a corner of the abandoned lot, practically foaming at the mouth. Not that, that wasn't unusual, it was just acting weird. That was right about the time that the six other things showed up. They'd never really gotten a good look at them, they were too concentrated on the running part, and it occurred to Owen right about then, that he wanted to know.

In a calm courage he'd inherited after his had heart stopped, he flipped the screen over and let the light shine free.

They were Weevils…sort of, the same structure, height, and features. There was just something off about them that he couldn't pin out in the limited light. Speaking of which, light was evidently something they didn't like being shined in their face. They growled in unison and lunged forward, and that was right about the time that they were hit by a big, black, car.

The crowd was swept to the side, the sound of the wet impact reverberating around the alley.

Owen turned to Ianto calmly and pointed at the now open path, "Did you just see…"

"Yeah," Ianto nodded enthusiastically and they both hastily made their way out of the alleyway to look. The car had stopped a good while away, scorched tire marks stretching back all the way to the alleyway, little bits of Weevil dotting the surrounding land.

Owen nudged a chunk with his foot, "It's like they just melted." He turned to ask Ianto's opinion but he had already started walking up the road.

The Car was a large black SUV not too dissimilar to the standard issue for Torchwood. The Insignia was missing though, as well as those ridiculous blue blinky things Jack was so fond of. Owen clucked his tongue at it, leaning over to take a look at the front bumper which was almost comically encased in rubbery weevil goo.

A female voice caught Owen's interest and he looked back around in time to see Ianto lowering an exceptional thin blonde specimen of the human race to the pavement.

"Last time I do that," The woman said, rubbing her neck and looking the two of them up and down.

"Are you alright?" Ianto put a steadying hand on her shoulder as she wobbled for a minute.

"I am now," She smiled at them, "for a minute there I was worried you were the wrong guys! If I'm correct you're Ianto Jones and Owen Harper from Torchwood, right?"

The two men looked at each other briefly then back at her. They could always retcon her later.

"Yeah," Owen answered, "but who are you?"

"Helen Devon," The woman smiled, "I believe you were looking for someone from Unit?"

–––-

Parallel Earth/London

Martha buried her hands in her pockets, as she approached the restaurant. It wasn't anything fancy, just a random Italian affair. She dimly remembered reading an article about it being one of the worst restaurants in the city and found herself suddenly becoming very wary. This wasn't what she had been expecting at all. She checked her phone to make sure she had the correct address and frowned. She wasn't wrong. About half a block further and spotted Rose sitting at a patio table. The Torchwood operative was happily gnawing on a straw and flipping through a few papers out in the open not showing a bit of the mood that had been conveyed in the message she left on Martha's phone.

Martha made her way to the table, waving her intentions at a nearby waiter. Rose didn't even look up until she loudly pulled a chair out for herself.

"Ah," Martha said as the woman looked up, "That's what you look like when you aren't purple."

Rose smiled widely back at her and joked back, "It's a shame. Wonder if there's a way I can get my hair to stay that way."

"So," Martha continued, dropping her satchel next to her chair, "this isn't exactly the most secretive of places, is it?"

"It is for me," The blonde said, "Not a soul in Torchwood would be caught dead here. Horrible food."

Martha frowned, "So when you said between you and I, I didn't realize you meant outside of Torchwood."

"For now," Rose nodded and pushed the manilla folder across the table to her before returning to sipping on her drink, conspicuously avoiding saying anything about them. Martha interpreted that as a look first, ask questions later kind of thing and reached for it. She hesitated only for a moment, wondering if this was even something she really wanted to get involved in. Didn't Torchwood have its own doctors? Then, of course, curiosity got the better of her.

She flipped through the papers, reading over the reports, immedietly falling back into medical school. The old routine of "Here's the case, tell me what's wrong." It was the typical gammit of exploratory tests, and Rose gave her all the time she needed to look through them, occasionally answering broad questions, hows, whens, and whats. Eventually, Martha closed the file and leaned back in her chair.

"Without knowing more about the case, there are some holes, but just based on this, I'd say that the patient is well above health standards. There's nothing wrong with them, physically or mentally." She said, "Now what's this all about?"

Rose, reached across the table and pulled the file back to herself, a pensive look crossing her face. She shook off her thoughts and smiled brightly at the doctor across from her.

"Nothing, I-"

"These are yours, aren't they?" Martha interrupted.

Rose smile changed just a shade, weirdly proud of her, "Well, yeah. You caught me."

"Is this about last week, with you fainting?" Martha crossed her arms on the table.

"Hey, now, I didn't faint, I just–" Rose started but was stopped by the look the other woman was giving her. She sighed and hung her head slightly, "Right, here's what happened. Just before I fell, well… it was almost as if the world…"

"Cracked?" Martha jumped in. She could see Rose's answer on her face and continued on to explain herself, "I just saw it for a second, right there before you fainted, but it was enough. I think I would have fallen if I hadn't already been kneeling." The doctor leaned over abruptly and opened her own bag, pulling out nearly the same reports as Rose had.

"Mine are all clean as well," Martha continued, "I didn't know how to explain it. I thought it was neurological but it didn't really fit with anything I could find. What's going on, Rose?"

The two girl stared at each other for a minute, each making their own silent theories before Rose leaned back over the table.

" How much time do you have?"

Martha smiled conspiratorially, "All day."

–––-

A/N: I was going to wait a full week before I posted this but even I got a bit impatient. So here's the second chapter, though it's still fairly Doctor-less. Next time (which is already written, by the way) we have Jack playing hide and go seek, More Doctor-ness, more dead Owen-tude, and a little bit more of alternate Martha. Whoo.

Random Thought: It occurs to me…why do all of the Doctor's new companions have grandma names? Rose, Martha, Donna? Then there's Astrid if you want to count temporary ones. Seriously now. Who picks these?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

_Earth/Cardiff_

It was dawn by the time the Doctor returned from his romp around Cardiff. He'd hit a few local tourist spots, grabbed some fantastically greasy chips, reprogrammed a public arcade game to something a tad more entertaining, and he very nearly ran everyone out of a public theater by commenting every five minutes on the historical accuracy of the movie. All in all, a peaceful day.

…and it disturbed the hell out of him.

In all of his 900 plus years he'd never once had a truly peaceful day, though not for lack of trying. Something catastrophic always seemed to come up. It was a fact of life he'd learned to accept and, in a weird way, kind of enjoy. As for today, well, he was frankly flabbergasted, which wasn't a word he got to use often in relation to himself but very much liked the ring of.

He'd hidden the TARDIS well enough, but by the time that he twisted the key in the lock and opened one door he knew something was very, very wrong. He'd found his catastrophe.

The ship was unnaturally dark and the slight warble she'd had earlier had progressed to something that rang almost painfully in his head. Within seconds he was at the controls, one hand stroking the panel comfortingly whispering things he really didn't knowing the meaning of and didn't really care to pay attention to. The TARDIS was in pain, fading fast, and his only goal at that moment was helping her.

The Doctor circled the terminal, rapidly twitching dials and flipping switches, not even looking to see the reaction before he moved on to the next one. Lights were popping out of existence behind him as he skidded around for the fourth time, stopping and twisting the screen around so he could see it. The Doctor covered his eyes dramatically and dropped a finger down on the last button. Finally, with a shudder and a single toll of the cloister bell, the ship fell silent.

"Come on…" He rasped under his breath, fingers tapping anxiously. He straightened and gave the ship a slow count to three. Just as quickly as the lights and sounds had ceased, they rose up again, reassuring but weak. The Doctor grinned widely getting the distinct urge to high five someone but, for lack of someone to do it with, he simply patted the controls.

"Little bit of a scare. Now," He said, rubbing his hands together, "let's see what that was all about."

–––-

At that precise moment, Owen Harper was feeling completely bored and distinctly left out at the exact same time. Helen and Ianto had hit it off famously, leaving him to sit in the back of the SUV like a disobedient child, listening to them banter back and forth about rules and regulations. The two of them were way too alike for Owen's comfort, the woman had totally trashed any hopes he had for her the second she'd gotten over her whiplash. No human should be that interested in protocol, it was just unnatural.

Ianto seemed to be enjoying himself, though. He rarely got a chance to exhibit his memorization skills. Owen, on the other hand, was only getting to exhibit his manly brooding talents which were admittedly fairly formidable these days.

By the time he tuned back into the conversation they'd managed to progress onto more interesting topics, ones that he could actually participate in.

"…I didn't actually ask to come here." Helen was saying from her perch on the front seat, "I was actually in the middle of a project of mine. I've been working on it for a while, and really, without explanation I get ordered out here. No offense," The blonde hurriedly tagged on at the end, "It's just one roadblock after another. If I didn't know better I'd say they were _trying _to make my life difficult!"

Owen pushed himself back up from where he'd been stretched in the back seat, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"What's your project about?" He asked bluntly.

Helen looked back at him, slightly surprised he was joining in, "Ah, well, it wasn't originally my project, it was my Husband's…my Late Husband's." Her eyes tightened, "Honestly, I'm fairly new at all this whole thing. I inherited his job after he passed away."

The woman shook her head, expression shifting with the memories they were attached to. Despite himself, Owen felt a twinge of sympathy towards her, thinking back to how he had ended up joining Torchwood. He knew Ianto was probably thinking much the same thing. It hadn't been so different, and, really, most people had gotten into the business for similar reasons. It was one sad story after another.

Luckily, Helen had learned how to deal with it as they all had, to brush it away and move on. She let out a deep sigh and continued, "His research, the project, was a historical one, and I've almost figured it out… From what I've seen so far, something is off about this world."

She looked steadily at them, "All of these things, the Weevils, the rift, it's not by chance, something is playing god with this world as if it was a toy and I worry that, soon, even that won't suffice. "

–––––––-

"Ooh…That's not good."

The Doctor frowned at the display in front of him, the rapidly changing circles and symbols spelling out exactly how entertaining of a week this was really going to be, thought it wasn't being really specific as to why. Since the TARDIS's little shut down act he'd been forced to drop down to the very bare minimums of power. All unnecessary processes in the TARDIS had been stalled until he could get everything up and running again.

Trick was, with the console currently only allowing for minimum testing, he couldn't figure out the solution to his problem, and his usual secondary systems for situations such as these had been moved into another wing. Which would be fine and dandy, if he could just get to it. As it happened, though, one of those "unnecessary" processes happened to be the really fancily named gadget that stabilized the rest of the TARDIS in time and space. Technically, he could brave it anyway, and he even briefly entertained the idea, until he realized exactly how horrible it would be to get lost in his own TARDIS for the rest of eternity. That would just be embarrassing.

With what was available to him, The Doctor had been able to figure out the problem had something to do with the energy of the world itself. Not a particular mechanical feat in itself. All he had to do was stir up the barest of concentration to feel how wrong it felt. The natural power source that was the Cardiff Rift was corrupted and that taint was acting as a poison to the TARDIS. If he could just figure out exactly what was causing the corruption, then it would be a synch to figure out a metaphorical antidote.

The Doctor drummed a beat out on the controls, considering his options. If he didn't have technology to work with himself, well, he'd just have to borrow some, Unit would help without any coercion involved but it was all the way over in London, and the idea of public transportation had never sat well with him. Besides, why make the trip if a perfectly good secret underground base was just a skip away? He also had to admit to himself that he'd wanted to break into it since the minute he'd found out about it and this was the prefect opportunity.

With a quick pat to the controls and a short pocket check, the Doctor grabbed his coat and headed towards the centennial building.

–––

_Earth/UNIT HQ, London_

Doctor Martha Jones was hunched comfortably over her desk, steeped in paperwork when the knock interrupted her. She barely had time to turn before a soldier in a red barret leaned into the room. She leveled a cool but still slightly annoyed 'Can't you see I'm working' look on the unfortunate man.

"Yes?" She said finally, laying the tension on thick.

"Uh," The man paused awkwardly, "I was wondering if you've seen Captain Jack Harkness, the one from Torchwood?"

"Nope," She popped the word irritably, "and I'm getting annoyed about it. I see how good a friend he is, not even showing up when he's in the area."

"Oh," The soldier said, and Martha felt bad for him, he was obviously new.

She softened her voice, letting a small smile come onto her face, "If I do see him I'll tell him you were looking."

The man snapped back into his confidence now that _the _Martha Jones wasn't glaring at him. His superiors had told him she was someone special, though they hadn't really stated why.

"Thank you," He replied, straightening up and adjusting his shoulders, "Major Cramer was looking for him."

"I'll tell him if I see him." Martha heaved a frustrated sigh. The soldier took the opportunity to back out of the room in a hurry, shutting the door behind him. Martha carefully watched his silhouette ghost down the hallway, obscured by the frosted glass that made up the entire west wall. She gave the soldier time to round the corner completely before speaking again.

"You can come out now," She called, casting a glance around the room until she saw a spiked head of hair peek out from behind a filing cabinet. She was mildly impressed for a moment, given as they'd only had a short second of warning for him to hide in and he was all the way across the room. The leader of Torchwood 3 stepped out from behind the cabinet as if it was his natural right to be hiding in a UNIT laboratory, all swagger and smiles. He was most obviously pleased with himself.

"This might be a silly thing to ask," Martha asked after a beat, "but is it really a good idea to be ducking your duties?"

"Not at all!" A sour look took over Jack's face for a moment, "It's all political anyway. I can deal with a little bit of it but after a while I get tired of the chit chat. It's all, 'Nice weather, right?' 'How's the team?' 'Seen that new chronovariable drill they just found?'" Jack reenacted the questions in a high voice with accompanying hand motions, "Makes a guy sick."

He almost looked like he was done ranting for a second, stewing silently for a second before launching right back into it, "and the worst part is that I don't even know if we're going to get any help in this. They said they sent some guy yesterday, but who knows what that means."

"It was a woman, actually," said Martha, chiming in, "I talked to her before she left, nice girl, a researcher."

"Aw," Jack made a disapproving noise, "A researcher? –and don't look at me like that, we both know you're different." He had seen the look developing on her face before it'd even had a chance to fully form. She let it pass, hands going up in admittance.

Martha couldn't help but notice that Jack was been broodier than usual and while she could understand in part, she felt that there was something there that didn't lie entirely within the fault of the chatty military folk. This had been the first time he'd been away from his team since The Year That Never Was though she couldn't imagine it was a trust issue. Though perhaps it wasn't his team he didn't trust…

She remembered back to when she'd visited Torchwood, how her superiors had been ecstatic about it. Apparently Jack had kept UNIT at an arms length for a very long time, preferring to keep in touch only through reports and not people. As a matter of fact, she couldn't think of a single other UNIT operative who'd been in the Torchwood Cardiff Hub.

"Jack…" She tapped a pen to the desk idly, "do you not trust UNIT?"

The Captain gave her a long look as he made himself comfortable on a table top, buying time to weigh his answers.

"You and I both know that UNIT and Torchwood don't see so much eye to eye on some issues," He began, "but I don't think that _UNIT_ realizes that quite yet and we're going to have to deal with that sometime, but I _really _don't want that to hit the fan right now."

Martha nodded in understanding, having noticed the natural differences. UNIT, to say the least, was a little heavy handed in the way that they went about things and their diplomacy was lacking, to say the least. Well, there was also their view of using alien technology. Martha quickly realized that he was probably right…They probably wouldn't understand some of Jack's management choices, one person came to mind in particular.

"Owen…" She said.

"Forget him! I was talking about Janet!" Jack retorted.

"The _Weevil_?"

"Of course," Jack said with a smile, "She and I are starting to hit it off and I don't want any big mean UNIT soldier to take her away from me."

Martha stared at him in good humor, "The scary part is, I don't know if you're joking or not."

"Keeps you on your toes, doesn't it?" He replied cheerily. Martha could only shake her head and laugh, turning her back to tap quickly on her nearby laptop. Jack took it as an obvious hint to her wanting to round back to the business at hand and he was only too happy to oblige. "You had something you were wanting to show me?"

"Yep," Martha motioned for him to look at the screen as she leaned away from it, revealing a graph over a rapidly changing waveform. "This," She pointed at the latter, shifting to the side so he could see better, "This, is the Cardiff Rift. I've been monitoring it for almost two weeks now."

Jack leaned in, but didn't see anything noticeable, "For what?"

"I've been experiencing something, as if, for a split second, I'm somewhere else." She said plainly, two weeks ago she would have had a harder time explaining it, but she'd written so many reports about it so far that the words were practically imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Jack hadn't wasted any time in getting into full out Torchwood mode, eyebrows lowered in concentration.

"So, what is it? A psychic thing, astral projection, global teleport, what?" He supplied.

Martha shrugged, "I don't know, haven't had the opportunity to test very much, I tripped over this just on accident. It's only happened a handful of times, each time more pronounced, and I noticed that every time it _does _happen, I see the readings from the rift start showing this pattern."

She pulled out a piece of paper from underneath her laptop with a still version of the waveform showing a pattern of four distinct spikes. It was simply by accident that he looked up from the paper right then. He blinked, still staring as Martha went on talking, but he wasn't imagining it.

"Martha?"

"What?" She frowned as Jack slowly raised a finger to point at her computer. She turned to find the pattern starting, plain as day on the readings of the rift, soft at first, but rapidly becoming more pronounced.

Martha barely got half of a word out before she was falling out of her chair. Jack caught her awkwardly around the shoulders as she went, lowering her softly to the floor. The doctor's eyes were closed, though the eyes were still spinning at a mile a minute underneath the lids. It was as if she were caught in a dream, and then she woke up…

"Martha?" Jack questioned cautiously.

Her dark eyes were unfocused for a moment, circling around the room once before settling on him as he said her name. They weren't the eyes he was expecting though, these were the eyes of someone who was, very, very confused, and the confusion quickly turned into fear.

Martha suddenly jolted free of his hands, eyes deer-in-the-headlights wide as she skittered back away from him, running up against a cabinet.

"Where am I?" She asked shakily.

"Martha?" Jack questioned, slightly confused.

"How do you know my name?" The woman jolted again, "Answer me!"

Jack put out his hands placatingly, "Just calm down for a minute–" Even as he said it he could see the fear turn into heated anger.

"I will _not_ calm down. Now, answer my questions!" the not-quite-Martha chanced a look around the room before zipping right back to Jack, "And where in the hell is Rose?"

…and for the first time in his long life, Captain Jack Harkness found himself completely and totally speechless.

––––-

A/N: I was totally considering making the Doctor do the One Mississippi, Two Mississippi but then I realized that probably wouldn't be too correct of me and held back. It brings up a point though, I am pretty obviously not British and I'm going to (unintentionally) mess up on the lingo, if I haven't already. I'll feel bad for a while about it but then I remember that the "American" Jack Harkness says things like "Car Park" and "Lift" instead of Parking Garage and Elevator. Everyone makes mistakes like that.

Next Time: Doctor styled breaking and entering (less breaking, more entering) and a rather Rose heavy chapter (Huzzah!) As usual, this is already written, just trying to space it out so I can get farther ahead. See you guys next time!


End file.
